


The Clouds Broke and the Angels Cried

by anodyneer



Series: Sharpie Hearts [4]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Role Reversal, School Shootings, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3979675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anodyneer/pseuds/anodyneer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the third anniversary of the school shooting that changed Peter's life, Neal attends the remembrance ceremony with Peter and rediscovers a side of himself that he thought was gone forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clouds Broke and the Angels Cried

**Author's Note:**

> Fourth installment in the Sharpie Hearts AU, where Peter is a former NYPD detective who owns a private security firm, and Neal is a barista at Starbucks. Warning: brief discussion of school shootings (past event) and injury to/death of students - not particularly graphic or upsetting, but still worth a mention. Title is from "[Wave on Wave](http://youtu.be/fJWnIFlYKjs)" by Pat Green. The song from the ceremony is "[There You'll Be](https://youtu.be/ygeaQIvCmc8)" by Faith Hill.
> 
> Once again, the very talented [Kanarek13](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/pseuds/Kanarek13) has provided the beautiful cover art - thank you so much! :D

  


* * *

Neal sat on the terrace outside his apartment, waiting for both Peter and June and watching as the housekeeper arranged an assortment of breakfast foods on the table in front of him. In the weeks since he’d started spending his nights with Peter, Neal’s sleeping patterns – and his health in general – had drastically improved. He still had the occasional nightmare, but they weren’t nearly as severe, and Peter always woke enough to soothe him through it.

Neal’s twice-weekly sessions with Dr. Parker were also helping more than he ever would have thought possible. His experience with his previous therapist had been a bitter disappointment. The man’s attitude toward him had been clinical and aloof, and Neal had clammed up at every session, unable to bring himself to reveal even a hint of his tortured past. He’d gone to the appointments only to appease June, until a particularly uncomfortable exchange with the therapist ended with a panic attack so severe that they’d called an ambulance. He hadn’t gone back, and though he’d never had the heart to tell June, he knew she suspected.

Thankfully, his experience with Dr. Parker – or Ellen, as she seemed to prefer – was completely different. It helped that she bore a startling resemblance to his childhood neighbor, Kathryn Hill, who’d taken care of Neal and Kate when their father was too drunk and their mother was too broken. The matronly Ellen had instantly put Neal at ease, and he found it easy to open up to her.

Neal had discovered, mostly by accident, that Ellen was semi-retired, which explained how she was able to get him in on such short notice and why she was able to see him twice a week. She was doing it as a favor for Peter, though Neal never found out exactly why she felt she owed him. That didn’t matter, though, as much as the fact that Neal was finally getting the help he needed.

And after a few very promising sessions with Ellen, Neal had enough faith in her ability to help him that he’d told her his story. He’d already revealed pieces of it, but in a session that lasted much longer than his allotted time, he’d told her the rest.

He’d started with his childhood, with an inebriated father who berated him and a mother who was too depressed to give a damn. He explained how he took care of Kate, and how she encouraged him when he started designing and making jewelry for her and her friends.

He altogether skipped the story about coming out, and his resulting visit to the hospital. 

He actually managed to smile when he got to the part about opening his own jewelry store and how he’d made it one of the most successful in the area. And though he’d mostly gotten over Matthew Keller’s verbal abuse and cheating, he could still only bring himself to mention it in passing.

The shaking started when he got into the story of the severe abuse he’d suffered at the hands of the man who’d bought out his business, about the crimes that man committed and held over Neal’s head. He considered it a victory that he made it through the pared-down version without vomiting in Ellen’s trash can, though it was a near thing.

The tears came when he told her about the car accident that took Kate’s life, about laying in the car, injured and in pain, covered in Kate’s blood. He described the months that followed, the nightmares and flashbacks that took away his ability to work and function. He talked about losing his job, his home, his belongings, his friends, and about how the shelters turned him away because he terrified the other residents with the screams that tore from deep inside him every time he fell asleep. _“Come back when you get the help you need,”_ they’d told him, sending him on his way with a referral to a therapist whose earliest opening was nearly two months away.

And finally, in a voice that was shaking as much as his body, Neal spoke of a damning revelation from his former abuser, and about trying to right the wrong, only to be caught in the act. About waiting for the police, and about shivering until he thought his bones would break, and how the snap of the handcuffs on his wrists so overwhelmed him that he’d lost all feeling in his legs as everything around him went a hazy gray. He could clearly remember the kindness in June’s eyes, her hands wrapped around his at the hospital, an unfathomable offer to help him.

That session had ended with Neal feeling ravaged and numb. He’d sat in silence as minutes passed, Ellen’s hand over his, and he pulled himself together. When Ellen finally asked him what he was feeling, he told her the truth without hesitation.

 _“I wish Peter was here.”_ There were no tears left, but his voice had broken anyway. _“Please.”_

Peter had come for him, had taken him home and reminded him how much he was loved. Yet when the nightmares hit full force late in the night, and Neal awoke to the sound of his own screaming, his first reaction to the man hovering over him was, _“Don’t hurt me.”_

Almost as soon as the words were out, Neal had recognized Peter and knew he wouldn’t hurt him. He’d also seen the flash of pain in Peter’s eyes before the older man shook it off and doubled his efforts to comfort Neal. He’d wrapped Neal, shaking and sobbing, in the comforter and just held him, kissing his temple and stroking his hair and telling him he was safe.

 _“I won’t hurt you,”_ Peter had whispered next to his ear. _“I’ll never hurt you. You’re safe.”_ He’d repeated it, a comforting mantra, until Neal finally calmed enough to doze in Peter’s arms.

He’d awakened some time later to early morning sunlight streaming through the windows and Peter still curled around him. And instead of being scared or feeling stifled, Neal had welcomed the warmth, the safety, the contentment that came with being in the arms of someone who refused to give up on him. 

The nightmares, surprisingly, hadn’t returned. Not the next night, or the one after. The realization had left Neal stunned. He’d told Ellen much of his story and had only suffered through one night of terror as a result – terror that had been cut drastically short by Peter Burke’s strong and loving presence. It made the light at the end of the tunnel just a little brighter, gave him more hope than he’d felt in a long time. 

By the end of that week, he’d worked up the courage to ask Peter to accompany him to a therapy session with Ellen, one where he’d tell Peter about his past. It had been Ellen’s suggestion, even before he introduced her to his sad history. Not only had Peter agreed to it, but he’d discussed it with Ellen and made the appointment when he was there for his own appointment, the week before the remembrance ceremony at the school. Between the three of them, they were able to come up with a suitable date – one that was two weeks after the event at the school, so as to give Peter plenty of time to recover emotionally.

“Neal, dear, are you alright?” June’s hand fell on his shoulder, pulling him out of his reverie. He tried not to jump and failed miserably, but when June’s eyes widened in alarm, he waved off her concern and gave her a smile.

“Sorry, June.” Out of politeness, he stood and waited for her to sit before pushing in her chair and returning to his own. “Just…thinking.”

“So I noticed.” June returned his smile. “I was just asking why you hadn’t started eating yet. You know you don’t have to wait for me.” She gestured to the small spread of food on the table. “Mozzie made sure Cecilia brought up some things that would be easy on Peter’s stomach.” 

Neal put his hand over hers, his smile turning grateful. “Thanks, June. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. He’s still in the shower, but he should be out soon.”

Peter had been a little queasy over the previous two days, and when June – who missed absolutely nothing – had noticed, he’d readily admitted to her that it was because of the school ceremony. _“I get myself a little worked up over it. I’ll be fine once I get there, but the build-up is rough.”_

Neal couldn’t help feeling proud of Peter and his ability to be so open about his struggles. The older man had also been having nightmares over the last couple of nights, but he’d faced those head-on as well, curling into Neal’s warm embrace and comforting touches with a sleepy smile and muttering a _love you_ before sinking back into slumber. Peter seemed to immediately know that he was safe, and he’d given Neal hope that he’d someday be able to deal with his own nightmares as smoothly.

As June helped herself to some Italian roast, Neal glanced back at the terrace doors. Peter was taking longer than usual in the shower, and though Neal wanted to stay calm and confident for his lover’s sake, he was starting to get concerned. Just as he was trying to figure out if he should check on Peter or distract himself from his irrational worries with breakfast, his phone buzzed with an incoming text. From Peter.

_can you come back_

Neal tried to force down a surge of panic as he excused himself and headed back to the bathroom. If Peter wasn’t bothering with punctuation or capitalization, something was really wrong. 

“Peter?” Neal knocked on the door and opened it, only to find Peter, freshly showered, sitting on the floor in his boxers and shivering violently. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Mmm.” Peter shook his head and turned a dejected gaze upon Neal. “Got the sh-shakes. I just – I need – c-could you sit with me?”

“Of course, yeah.” Neal grabbed a towel and draped it around Peter’s upper body, then lowered himself to the floor and wrapped his arms around his trembling lover. “I’ve got you.” Peter sighed and pressed against him, resting his head on Neal’s shoulder. His fingers curled around Neal’s arms.

“J-Just give me a few minutes.”

“Shh.” Neal brought a hand up to stroke the back of Peter’s head. They sat there as the minutes passed, and to Neal’s relief, Peter’s shivering started to taper off. 

“Sorry,” Peter said softly. He took a deep, steady breath and let it out in a vaguely exasperated sigh. “Thanks, Neal, I’m sorry. Every year, I tell myself I’m not going to let it get to me. And every year, I get worked up over it. I’d hoped that by now…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I should get dressed.”

“It’s okay,” Neal replied, pulling away but still keeping an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “We have some time. Just stay here for now.” He still wasn’t quite used to the role reversal that came with being the one to comfort Peter, but it felt right and seemed to be helping. He brushed his lips over Peter’s jaw and was rewarded with a hint of a smile.

“I’m alright,” Peter said, giving Neal a little nudge. “I like this side of you, though. Feels nice.” He turned and nuzzled Neal’s ear. “My hero.”

Neal huffed out a laugh, but the comment brought an unexpected tightness to his chest. Both of them were so used to Peter being the one to comfort Neal, but when Peter was the one in need of help, Neal had slipped effortlessly into the role. It was both a relief and a huge boost to his confidence, knowing that he could put aside his own issues and be there for Peter.

“Come on, then,” he said, pushing himself up and holding out a hand to Peter. “You need to get dressed and get some breakfast.”

Peter accepted the help and stood, removing the towel from his shoulders. “Yeah, I’m a little queasy, but I should try to get something in my stomach.” He grabbed his slacks from the hook on the back of the door and slipped into them. “Hey, will you help me with my hair?”

“Of course.” Neal watched as Peter put on a dark button-down shirt, then gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You look great already.”

“Mmm. So do you.” Peter rested his hands on Neal’s waist and returned the kiss with something a little more substantial. “You know you’re better at it than me, though.”

Neal couldn’t help smiling at that. It was no secret that Peter had a thing for Neal’s hair, running his fingers through it, burying his nose in it as he kissed along the back of Neal’s neck. When they started spending nights together, Neal had offered to help Peter style his own hair in the mornings, and both of them ended up loving the results.

Within a few minutes, Peter’s hair was done, he’d put on a little of his favorite cologne, and he was ready to face June and breakfast. Just before they went out, he pulled Neal into a hug.

“Thank you, really.” Peter’s voice was soft, muffled against Neal’s shoulder. “It means a lot that you’re doing this. If – if you change your mind, or if it starts getting to you, you’ll let me know, right?”

“I promise.” Neal pulled away and waited until Peter’s eyes came up to meet his. “You don’t have to give me an out, though. I love you, and if you need me to be there, I’ll be there.”

Peter gave him a long stare, his throat working, before finally to reply. “I love you, too.” His chin trembled, but he shook his head and took a deep, cleansing breath. He gave Neal a smile, small but genuine, and draped his arm over the younger man’s shoulders. “Okay, let’s go get some breakfast.”

\-------------

Peter managed to find a parking spot around the corner from the Keyes School. After shutting off the Jeep, he sat there for a moment and stared out the windshield. Neal ran a hand down Peter’s arm before wrapping a hand around his fingers and squeezing. Peter squeezed back, turning to give Neal a grateful look.

“It’ll be a while before we get to do this again, and I could really use it now.” He leaned across and gave Neal a long but gentle kiss.

“You holding up?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter’s offhand shrug did little to convince Neal, but he seemed to be holding up well enough. “Guess we’d better get in there.”

They walked to the school entrance, and though there were strict security precautions in place since the shootings, it didn’t take them long to get through because everyone knew Peter by sight. The school was much more modern inside than Neal, who’d only seen the outside, had expected. The halls were brightly lit and lined with posters and various types of student art.

As Neal paused to take a closer look at a detailed pen sketch that seemed to show a man making an impossible leap between cars on the Roosevelt Island Tram, someone called Peter’s name. Neal glanced up to see a forty-something blonde woman approaching them, her arms open wide.

“Jill,” Peter said, stepping into her embrace. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too. I’m glad you’re here. A lot of people have been asking about you.”

Peter glanced away, looking briefly self-conscious, before reaching for Neal. His hand came to rest in the small of Neal’s back, warm and steadying. “Jill Stone, this is the love of my life, Neal Caffrey. Neal, this is Jill Stone, the assistant head of school.” 

Neal shook Jill’s hand and somehow managed to tell her it was nice to meet her. He was absolutely stunned by Peter’s choice of introduction. _The love of my life._ He knew Peter had said the people at the school knew he was gay, but Neal still wasn’t expecting such a blatant declaration so soon after they’d arrived. Or at all, for that matter.

“Wow,” Jill said, giving Peter a sly look. “I was going to ask how you’re doing, but I think I can guess.”

“Don’t you dare ask if he has a brother.”

“You know me too well.”

Confused, Neal looked from Peter to Jill and back again. Her casual attitude toward the older man suggested that they knew each other outside of the events that had happened at the school, but he wasn’t sure if he should ask. Thankfully, Jill was quick to clear things up.

“Peter and I go way back. I was a beat cop back in the day, and we hung out outside of work sometimes, back before he made detective. I got out of it long before Peter did, though.”

“What happened?” Neal asked before he could stop himself. “I mean, uh, do you –”

“It’s fine,” Jill replied with a dismissive wave. “I just realized I’d made a mistake. It wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I decided I’d rather try to steer kids in the right direction before they had rap sheets and parole officers, you know? So I went back to school, got my master’s, and here I am.”

“And you’re doing a damn good job of it.” Peter reached out to give Jill’s shoulder a squeeze, and she smiled.

“What do you say we get in there?” Jill nodded down the hallway. They followed her, Peter’s hand still resting on Neal’s back. Neal found himself wondering if the contact was more for his sake or Peter’s own. 

Jill led them through a set of doors and into one of the most beautiful auditoriums Neal had ever seen. Modern and sprawling, with rows of dark blue seats curved around a spacious stage, the lighting bright but not overwhelming. There were quite a few people mingling in groups throughout the room – students and teachers, parents, even a small cadre of uniformed police officers.

Jill walked ahead of them, and Neal expected Peter to follow, but he stopped short instead. 

“Peter? You okay?”

“Hmm?” A tremor ran through Peter’s body, but when he glanced over at Neal, there was a small smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m good. I think.” His arm moved to Neal’s waist, and he pulled the younger man against him for a moment before letting go. Before Neal had a chance to say anything to comfort him, Peter broke into a hesitant but genuine grin. “There’s Evan.”

Neal followed Peter’s gaze and saw a boy approaching them, a matching smile on his face. He looked to be in his late teens, with a mop of dark hair and eyes so green that they stood out even at a distance.

“Peter!” The boy wrapped his arms around Peter and gave him a warm hug, which Peter returned with equal fervor.

“Hey, Evan. How are you?” Peter gave him a light slap on the back as they parted. It was only then, as they backed away to stand at arm’s length from each other, that Neal noticed the scar carving a furrow in the side of Evan’s neck.

“I’m doing okay. Glad you’re here.” Evan glanced from Peter to Neal and back. “Hey, is this your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Peter answered, and it again warmed Neal’s heart to hear him so readily admit it. “Neal Caffrey, this is Evan Leary.”

“Nice to meet you, Evan.” Neal offered his hand, and Evan shook it, still smiling.

“You, too.” The boy looked around, craning his neck, revealing even more of the scarring, a combination of dark red ridges and smooth pale skin much like the ones on Peter’s leg. “Diana’s here somewhere.”

Neal started looking for her and spotted her almost immediately, talking to Jill and a man in a wheelchair over by the side exit. Jill pointed in their direction, and Diana quickly made her way over, giving a quick hello to the group of police officers on her way by. 

“Hey, Boss.” She pulled Peter into a quick hug, then backed away and gave Neal a smile. “Neal. I’m glad you could make it.” She gave him a long look, one that conveyed a deep sense of gratitude.

“Me, too,” Neal said softly. He slid a hand up and down Peter’s back and felt Peter lean into the touch.

“Peter, Evan.” Jill strode toward them, accompanied by a young man with a cell phone in his hand. “This is Dennis from the _Express_. He’d like to ask you a few questions before things get started, if you’re up to it.”

Peter’s eyes darted from Neal to Diana to the reporter, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“It’ll only take a couple of minutes,” the reporter said, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Okay, sure.” Peter looked to Evan, who seemed to be in agreement, and the reporter took them aside.

Neal started as Diana’s fingers wrapped around his arm. She guided him partway down the carpeted aisle before stopping. “I meant what I said. I’m _really_ glad you’re here for Peter.” Her eyes searched his, digging almost deep enough to be unnerving. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

It wasn’t a question Neal was expecting, but he understood why she asked. “Yeah. I’m fine, actually. I’m worried about Peter, but I knew this wasn’t going to be easy for him, so…” He trailed off and shrugged. “I’m here for him, one hundred percent.”

“I hope so,” Diana replied, her voice low. “He’ll need it, especially after the two of you get home. I tried to be there the last two times, but I think it bothered him that I saw him like that. He didn’t let me stay very long.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’ll be different with you and that he’ll want you there, but just…stay close, okay? Don’t let him shut you out. This hits him pretty hard. He’ll probably be fine by tomorrow, but he’s going to need some help getting through today.”

“I know.” Neal glanced over at Peter, who was still speaking to the reporter, before bringing his eyes back to meet Diana’s. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

Diana nodded, then looked him up and down. “You’re looking a lot better. Is it Peter or the therapy?”

“Both,” Neal said, letting himself relax a little more now that Diana seemed to be convinced he’d take care of Peter. “The therapy is doing more than I thought it would, but Peter…he’s amazing. I know it’s only been a few months, but he’s pulled me out of some pretty dark places.”

“Yeah, that’s Peter alright.” Diana gave him an unusually soft smile.

“He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, her smile widening. “We’ve known each other for a long time, since I was just a recruit at the academy. He came in to speak to the class about diversity, and I think we realized almost right away that we were family. I talked to him after class, and we kept in touch. I was top of my class, so I got to pick my precinct assignment, and I decided I wanted to work with Peter.

“Sergeant Hughes paired me up with him when I came in as a probie, and we worked patrol for a while. Even after Peter made detective, I was assigned to work a lot of cases with him – setting me up to make the same move, which I eventually did. And then this happened.” She waved a hand at the room around them. “It just didn’t feel right when Peter couldn’t come back. I put in for a transfer to the tech unit and stayed there until Peter started the business last year.”

“And you quit, just like that?” Neal asked just as Peter approached them, the interview over.

“Of course.” Diana cocked her head in Peter’s direction. “I took pride in being with the department, but it wasn’t the same after what happened to Peter. They gave him the medal of honor and treated him like a hero, but then when he started having the psych issues and was going for therapy so often, their whole attitude toward him changed. The official reason for his disability retirement was because he couldn’t pass the physical eval, but they could’ve given him a desk job –”

“I didn’t want a desk job,” Peter interjected, grimacing at the thought. “That would have just given me more time to dwell on what happened, and I knew they’d always be watching anyway, waiting for me to flip out like I did at the range.” He leaned into Neal, and the younger man could feel him trembling. “They would’ve declared me mentally unfit, pulled my badge, and put me on leave – or worse. It’s hard to say whether or not I would have gotten any of my pension.” His hand slipped around Neal’s. “Getting out because of the physical disability meant that I was able to get the pension and leave with my head up.”

“Right,” Diana mumbled under her breath, “and they got rid of the gay detective with PTSD.”

“Okay, okay.” Peter held up a placating hand. “Would you rather be back there instead of doing what we’re doing now?”

“Good point.” The smile returned, and Diana clapped him on the shoulder. “Speaking of which, I’m going to head in to the office.”

“Executive protection team briefing?”

“Right, and after that, the Midtown Mutual vulnerability assessment. Oh, and we’re taking delivery of Cameron Duponte’s armored Sprinter this afternoon.”

“Good – then we can stop hearing about the damn thing.” Peter ran his free hand down her arm. “Stay safe.”

“Always.” Diana gave Neal a nod. “Neal. Keep this guy out of trouble.” Though she made it sound lighthearted, Neal caught the underlying sentiment.

“I promise.” 

After Diana left, Neal spent the next several minutes being introduced to some of the others in the room, including the group of police officers, all of whom treated Peter with a friendly reverence that warmed Neal’s heart. They were quick to include Neal in their conversation, and the two who were GOAL members seemed particularly pleased that he was Peter’s significant other.

The man in the wheelchair turned out to be Tony Herrera, the school security guard who’d been on duty the day of the shootings. Even as he met others, even after they took their seats when the students started to file in, Neal couldn’t help sneaking glances at Herrera – and thinking of how close Peter came to a similar fate.

“Neal.” Peter’s voice, low but firm, startled him. His fingers wrapped around Neal’s and squeezed. “Don’t. Tony’s doing better now than he was before. He wheels marathons, mentors injured cops and soldiers, even does a good bit of motivational speaking. Told me last year that he never knew who he truly was or what he was capable of until this happened.”

“Wow.” Neal glanced over at Herrera again, looking past the wheelchair to the genuine smile, the confident jut of his chin, the gleam in his eyes. When his gaze returned to Peter, his lover fixed him with a knowing look.

“Yeah.” Peter’s thumb skated over Neal’s knuckles, light and comforting, grounding them both. He leaned closer, his shoulder bumping Neal’s. “He asked me to come along when he went to other schools to speak.”

“Did you?”

“I couldn’t,” Peter whispered. “I can’t talk about it the way he does.”

“You told me.” Neal realized as soon as he said them that the words might have come across as callous, but Peter didn’t seem bothered by the statement.

“That was different,” he replied. “I love you – I did even back then, I think – and I felt comfortable enough to tell you. I can’t…talk to strangers about it, outside of giving them the basics. Everyone’s different, I guess. It’s therapeutic for Tony, but for me…” Peter trailed off and looked down at their hands.

“I know,” Neal said. He paused for a moment, carefully considering his next words. “If it matters, I really admire the way you _have_ handled what happened. It – it gives me hope.”

Peter closed his eyes and briefly struggled, his throat working, before he finally managed to whisper a reply. “Thanks. It does matter.”

The seats around them, reserved for those directly involved with the events of that fateful day, started to fill up. Peter seemed to pull himself together pretty quickly, shaking hands with anyone who stopped in front of them and introducing Neal with a smile. Evan gave them a nod as he walked past, which seemed to bolster Peter’s spirits even more. Still, as Jill and the head of school took the stage, Neal could feel the tension in the other man’s body.

The ceremony started with a short speech by the head of school about the healing that had taken place over the past three years, and about how the school banded together in the face of such a horrible tragedy. He talked about the courage of the students and faculty, as well as the police officers and EMS personnel who responded that day. At the mention of the police, Neal glanced over at Peter, only to find him watching the speaker intently.

When the head of school finished speaking, Jill took his place and launched into a story about some of the positive things that had happened to those who were injured or otherwise directly affected that day. Those who had been nearing the end of their freshman year at the time, Evan among them, were preparing to graduate and move on to the next stages of their lives. A secretary who’d risked her life to keep the shooter from entering the front offices and killing everyone inside was preparing for the arrival of her first baby, and Tony Herrera was gearing up for his first New York City Marathon as part of the professional wheelchair division.

And then there was Peter. Jill briefly mentioned their friendship during their early days with the police force, and how Peter encouraged her when she decided to leave to pursue her career in school administration. As she spoke, Peter allowed a small smile, his fingers tightening around Neal’s.

Jill spoke of Peter’s heroics on the day of the shootings, about how he went above and beyond, how he put himself in the line of fire, how he continued to save lives even in the face of his own severe injuries. By the time she was done, the smile had disappeared from Peter’s face, only to slowly return as she spoke of the things that had happened to him in the year since the last ceremony – namely, his new business and his relationship with Neal.

This time, when Neal looked over, Peter was gazing back at him, fondness in every line of his face. The older man wrapped his arm around Neal’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “I love you,” he whispered in Neal’s ear. “I’ll have to go up there in a few minutes. Got a presentation to make.”

Surprised by this revelation, Neal simply nodded. Peter hadn’t mentioned anything about a presentation to him before, but then again, they hadn’t talked much about the event. As well as Peter seemed to have coped with the shootings overall, it was clear that the ceremony rehashed some feelings he’d rather not revisit.

“And now,” Jill said from the stage, “without further ado, I’d like to welcome Tony Herrera and Peter Burke to the stage for their scholarship presentations.”

Peter gave Neal’s knee a quick squeeze before standing and making his way up to meet Tony Herrera at the foot of the ramp leading up to the stage. They went up together, but while Herrera wheeled up to the center of the stage in front of the podium, Peter stood off to the side.

It didn’t take long for Neal to find out what was going on. Herrera launched into a quick description of the Anthony Herrera Comeback Scholarship, an award given to an athlete who overcame injury or adversity and returned to excel at their chosen sport. He presented the scholarship to a boy who’d torn his ACL and meniscus during a basketball game in his sophomore year, only to come back and letter in three sports during his junior and senior years, as well as being named a high school athlete of the month by _Sports Illustrated_.

Once their presentation was done and photos were taken, Peter approached the podium to thunderous applause. He looked a little self-conscious as he waited for the clapping to die down, though the same small smile again played on his face. It made Neal proud to see him up there, preparing to give out a scholarship that was named in his honor, and so warmly welcomed by everyone in the room. When Peter’s eyes drifted over the crowd and finally met his own, Neal gave him what he hoped was an encouraging grin, and Peter’s own smile widened.

“Thank you,” he finally said, acknowledging everyone with a wave. “As you know, I’m here to present the Peter Burke Scholarship for Heroism. This award is given annually to a student who has performed an exceptional act of heroism within the past year, and this year, I’m proud to present it to Joaquin Valdivieso.”

Peter glanced down at the notes on the podium a few times as he told how the student, while on vacation with his family in New Jersey, had used his brother’s boogie board to paddle out to a boy who’d gotten stuck in a rip current on an unguarded beach. Joaquin had helped the boy swim out of the current and brought him back to shore on the board, in spite of the fact that he himself was a poor swimmer.

The boy who walked up to the stage at the end of Peter’s speech turned out to be a rail-thin senior who was nearly a foot shorter than Peter. He sheepishly accepted the medal and framed certificate that were part of the award and almost looked like he wanted to hide. But then Peter leaned down and said something to him, too far away for the microphone to catch, and the boy cracked up. He gave the audience a small wave before posing for photos with Peter and the certificate, wearing his medal and smiling the whole time.

When Peter returned to his seat, Neal reached for his hand again, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You were great up there,” he whispered.

“Thanks.” Peter smiled, and though it was genuine, Neal could already see the traces of weariness around the edges. He knew Peter well enough to know that the older man was having a hard time holding it together. At a time when so many were celebrating life and survival, there was something keeping Peter from feeling the same way, something tethering him to the devastation of that day. He’d never told Neal what it was, but it was obvious Peter was struggling with a burden that no one else in the room had to bear.

A few more announcements were made, and then Jill introduced a sophomore who was apparently the sister of one of the students who’d died in the attack. As the girl made her way to the stage, a screen lowered down behind Jill, and the face of another girl appeared on it, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and with a mouthful of braces in a beautiful smile.

Once onstage, the girl took the microphone from Jill as two students moved the podium to the side of the stage. The girl stared at the screen behind her for a moment, then turned to face the auditorium.

“This is for my sister, Megan, who I loved so much, and who I miss every day. This is also for Ananya and Zach and Tighe, who were taken from us way too soon. You are all missed.”

She nodded to the side of the stage, and music started playing through the speakers at the front of the auditorium – a slow melody of guitar and violins that was somehow both haunting and uplifting. Neal thought he might have heard it before but didn’t know the song and couldn’t place it. He glanced over at Peter, only to find the older man with his eyes closed and head bowed. He didn’t appear to be getting emotional, but it was clear he didn’t want to watch what was happening onstage. Neal ran his thumb over Peter’s knuckles, but Peter didn’t respond.

A voice rang out from the stage, soft but strong, and Neal turned his attention back to the girl at the front of the room. The screen behind her was now playing a slideshow of photos, one slowly fading into the next, of the same blonde girl, as well as a dark-haired girl and two different boys. The lyrics reached in and wrapped around Neal’s heart as the girl sang of remembering someone who was there for her and always keeping that person in her heart. Even before the second verse started, he was choked up, listening to the touching song and watching the photos of four young people who hadn’t even begun to live when their futures were stolen from them.

When the girl launched into the chorus, her voice soared, and Neal had to clench his jaw against the emotions. His fingers tightened around Peter’s, and he leaned into the older man. Peter didn’t respond, eyes still closed and chin nearly resting against his chest. Neal took a few deep breaths through his nose to pull himself back together.

“Peter?” he whispered in the other man’s ear. “What’s going on?”

Peter slowly turned to look at Neal, his gaze filled with an unspoken apology. “I – I can’t…”

“Okay.” Neal moved to put his arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him in close, and Peter’s eyes closed once again. It took a moment for it to register with Neal that he was already feeling stronger himself, and it once again startled him how quickly he slipped into the role of comforting Peter.

He’d gotten so used to having it the other way around that he’d almost forgotten he was capable of being strong enough to support someone else through a struggle like this one. And though he noticed others around him getting openly emotional, Neal’s renewed strength and his determination to hold it together for Peter’s sake helped carry him through.

It wasn’t until the song was nearly over that Neal felt the ache in his chest again, but with good reason. A small group of students entered from each side of the stage and came together behind the singer, their voices joining hers as they sang the chorus one last time.

_In my dreams, I'll always see you soar above the sky._  
_In my heart, there’ll always be a place for you for all my life._  
_I'll keep a part of you with me,_  
_And everywhere I am, there you'll be._  
_And everywhere I am, there you’ll be._  
_There you’ll be._

As the song finally ended, a final shot stayed on the screen, a collage of photos of the four students who’d lost their lives. Neal could hear people crying around him, but Peter was still surprisingly composed. It was as though he’d shut out the whole performance, and Neal wondered if he’d been meditating to keep from breaking down. Peter had once mentioned that Ellen taught him how to meditate to get through some of the rougher times and had offered to teach Neal if he ever wanted to learn.

Jill, her own voice tempered and steady, made an announcement about releasing balloons in the courtyard, followed by some time for the students and families to socialize, and everyone around them started to stir. When the students were dismissed and started filing out, Neal gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Peter? What can I do?” 

“This.” Peter opened his eyes and fixed Neal with a grateful look. “What you’re already doing is perfect. I’m – I’ll be okay.”

Neal nodded. “Jill said something about the courtyard…” He trailed off, not even sure if Peter was up to staying for that part of the ceremony. 

“Yeah,” Peter replied, actually managing a half-smile. “Is it alright if we wait until it clears out a little more?”

“Of course.” The comment reminded Neal that they were nearly front and center, and he reluctantly brought his arm back down between them, once again taking Peter’s hand in his own, a much less obvious public display of affection.

As the auditorium continued to empty, Evan approached and leaned down between them. “Peter, Meg’s parents wanted to know if you’re staying for the balloon thing. I think they were kinda hoping you’d do one for her.”

Peter’s gaze shifted briefly, and Neal couldn’t help looking in the same direction. A man and woman stood near the side of the stage with the girl who’d performed the song. Though the man and girl were talking, the woman was watching Peter with a hopeful expression.

“I – sure, Evan.” Peter didn’t sound sure at all, but he glanced over at the woman and nodded, and she gave him a relieved smile before turning to speak to her husband.

“Great. I’ve got to catch up with Chloe. I’ll see you out there.”

Peter nodded once again, and Evan hurried away, stopping briefly to speak to Meg’s parents on his way out. They, too, left the auditorium, each of them giving Peter a last look before disappearing through the side doors.

Neal turned his attention back to Peter just in time to see the other man shiver hard, once and then again. “Peter, what is it?”

Peter pursed his lips and shook his head, taking a moment to gather himself. “It – it’s nothing. I just…I need a minute.”

“Sure.” Neal ached with the need to do more to comfort the man he loved, but he wasn’t even sure where to start.

Peter thumped their joined hands on his knee. “Let’s get this over with.” He stood and flexed his leg a few times to get rid of the stiffness before leading Neal out into the hall. Jill was standing just outside the doors and fell in beside them as they walked.

“Hanging in there, Peter?”

“I am.” Peter smiled and leaned into Neal, squeezing his fingers. “Neal’s been lending me some of his strength.”

The comment caught Neal off-guard, and his chest tightened, though he managed to return what felt like a convincing smile. 

“I can tell,” Jill replied. “Peter, what you’re doing for the Harveys – it really means a lot to them. I know it still gets to you, but they –”

“Jill,” Peter interrupted, “can we not – I – that’s not…” He trailed off, frustrated, and Neal could feel him trembling. 

“Right. Of course. I should get out there. I’ll see you two soon.” Jill flashed Peter a sympathetic look before excusing herself and making a quick exit. 

Neal brought them to a stop at the intersection of two hallways near the exit that would take them out into the school’s small courtyard. “Peter, what’s going on? Who is this girl?”

Peter wasn’t looking at him, though. He was staring down the other hallway, and the trembling had progressed to outright shaking.

“Peter?”

There was still no response. Peter didn’t even blink. Neal turned to look down the corridor, long and eerily empty, leading to a set of double doors at the opposite end.

“I can’t be here,” Peter whispered, right around the same time that Neal recognized that set of double doors from the footage he’d seen on TV three years earlier. He vaguely remembered reading that they’d gutted and remodeled the hallway before allowing that part of the school to re-open, but the basic layout and the doors were still the same. 

“Oh god, Peter.” Neal took Peter by the shoulders and turned him away, guiding him into the vestibule between the doors leading to the courtyard and pulling him into an embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Peter took a few shaky breaths, somehow managing to regain most of his composure. “You didn’t know,” he said softly. “Can we…I just need some air.” He tilted his head in the direction of the courtyard, and Neal nodded.

“Of course, yeah.” 

They made their way outside, where the gathering seemed to be a lot more casual. It looked like only the upperclassmen were there, and they were standing in groups, some of them joined by the various family members Neal had seen in the auditorium earlier. Each group was holding a small bunch of balloons in assorted colors.

Evan made his way over to them, a reserved smile on his face. “I think they’re just about ready,” he told Peter, nodding in the direction of a group that included the young singer and her parents, as well as half a dozen red and green balloons. “I can wait here with Neal if you want.”

Peter glanced from Neal to Evan, then turned to look at the group that was waiting for him. When he turned back, Neal noticed a flash of deep, raw pain in Peter’s eyes before he schooled it away.

“Peter –”

“I should…I need to do this.” Peter ran a hand down Neal’s forearm, then turned and made his way over to the group.

“Evan, what’s going on?” Neal asked, watching as Peter made small talk with the group. He looked anything but comfortable. “Who is this Meg girl, and why is Peter so freaked out?”

“Megan was the one he didn’t save,” Evan said softly. Neal gaped at him, but Evan just stared straight ahead at Peter and the girl’s family. “He tried, but it was too late. My aunt is a nurse at the hospital, and she told my mom that Meg wouldn’t have made it anyway.” The boy glanced over at Neal before looking down at the sidewalk. One of his hands drifted up to the scars on his neck. “He saved _my_ life, though. Put pressure on my neck, kept me from bleeding to death, even though he was almost passing out on me because of his leg.”

Stunned, Neal looked back over at Peter, who was now holding one of the balloons and was wearing a smile that was almost convincing.

“It really bothers Peter,” Evan continued. “I don’t think he ever got over not saving Meg.” He looked up at Peter before turning to meet Neal’s eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, of course.”

Evan glanced around as if checking to make sure no one else would hear him, but almost everyone was focused on the balloon release. “Okay, nothing against Meg – we were really good friends, and I miss her. But Peter saved a lot of people that day.” His voice dropped to a low murmur. “Is it wrong that I sometimes wonder why that’s not enough? I mean, he saved the rest of us. I wish that was good enough, and that he’d look at it that way instead of beating himself up over Meg when he couldn’t have saved her anyway.” His eyes searched Neal’s. “Does that make me, like, some sort of major jerk?”

“No,” Neal replied quietly. “It actually sounds really reasonable to me. I think that’s just the way Peter is. He’s helping me get through some things, but I always get the feeling that he wishes he could do more.”

“Yeah.” Evan’s fingers found their way back to the scars on his neck, and Neal wondered if he even realized he was doing it. Jill was counting down to the balloon release, and they both briefly turned their attention to that, watching as the balloons – including the green one Peter had been holding – drifted up into the sky. “You won’t tell him we talked about this, right?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” Neal turned back to Evan, a smile pulling at his mouth. It disappeared when he saw the sobering look in the younger man’s green eyes.

“I don’t.” Evan looked away, jamming his hands into his pockets with a resigned shrug. “Maybe someday the lives he saved will mean as much to him as the one he didn’t, and it won’t hurt him so much.” Evan squared his shoulders. “I should go. It was nice meeting you.” Before Neal could reply, Evan left, quickly making his way over to Peter and the rest of the group. He said something to Peter, and they shared a hug before Evan disappeared into the crowd.

Neal started in Peter’s direction, but his lover met him halfway. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Me?” Neal cocked his head. “Yeah, I’m – Peter? What’s going on?” He could see right away that Peter’s breathing had quickened, and he was having a hard time meeting Neal’s eyes.

“I don’t – I…” Peter leaned in close, almost as if he thought Neal could somehow hide him from the world. “Can we go?” He finally looked up, and the vulnerability in his brown eyes startled Neal.

“Of course.” Neal wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist.

“We – I should – Jill…” Peter started trembling again, and though he couldn’t seem to put together a coherent sentence, Neal understood. 

“I’ll tell her.” He turned to look for Jill in the crowd, only to find her approaching them.

“Peter?”

Peter tensed, tamping down the shakes enough that Neal could barely feel them, but it took a lot of effort for him to look Jill in the eyes. He opened his mouth but couldn’t get the words out, and Neal took over.

“Jill, I’m going to take Peter home.” He thought he might have to explain, but before he had a chance, Jill simply pulled Peter in for a hug.

“Take care of yourself,” she told him, “and don’t be such a stranger. I miss hearing from you, you know.”

Peter nodded, still unable to speak. He pulled away from both of them and took a few steps toward the door, shoulders hunched and hands in his pockets.

“I’m glad he has you, Neal.” Jill ran a hand down Neal’s arm. “Take him home, try to help him deal with this.” 

“I will.” After exchanging quick goodbyes, Neal walked to Peter’s side. The older man was openly shivering, even with the warmth of the early June sun. “Come on,” Neal said softly, pulling Peter close. “Let’s get you out of here.”

It didn’t take them long to make it out of the building and back to where Peter had parked. Without a word, Peter unlocked the doors with the remote, then slipped the keys into Neal’s hand. It wasn’t until Neal pulled out into traffic that Peter finally spoke.

“Stop and get yourself something to eat if you want.” His voice was flat, exhausted, and he stared blankly out the window. He’d stopped shaking at least, but his left thumb was rubbing at the deep scar on his thigh through his pants.

“Sure.” Neal glanced over at him while they were stopped at a light. “Want me to get you your usual?”

Peter shook his head and closed his eyes. His concern for his partner growing, Neal reached over and stopped Peter’s hand, then wrapped his own around it. For a moment, it looked like Peter’s face was going to crumble, but he somehow managed to fight through it, his fingers tightening around Neal’s.

It made Neal’s heart hurt to see Peter struggling. All he wanted to do was hold him and tell him it was okay to let go. But at the same time, he knew Peter wouldn’t allow that to happen until he was back in his own apartment. So for the time being, Neal simply drove – and held on to Peter’s hand as tightly as he could.

The stop at the deli was mercifully quick. Though he knew Peter didn’t have an appetite, Neal still ordered their favorite sandwiches, along with a container of chicken rice soup that would be easy on Peter’s stomach and a couple of bottles of the ginger ale with real ginger. When he got back out to the Jeep, Peter was staring out the window again. He did take the bag from Neal and held it on his lap until they were finally home but was otherwise still and silent.

As soon as they were inside Peter’s apartment, he handed the food to Neal and sat down heavily on the sofa, leaning forward with his head in his hands. Neal stuck everything in the fridge for the time being and sat down beside his lover.

“Peter? What can I do?”

“Nothing.” Peter looked up at him, and Neal was startled by the haunted look in his eyes. “Go eat your lunch. Please.”

Neal recognized that Peter was trying to keep him at a distance, as Diana had said he would. “Peter…”

Peter shook his head and stared down at his hands. “Not right now, Neal. I – I can’t.” He toed off his shoes and moved to stretch out on the sofa. “I’m going to lie down for a while.”

Neal nodded and stood, giving Peter enough room for his legs. While he definitely wanted to stay close and be there for Peter, he also didn’t want to smother the older man or guilt him into talking about it when he wasn’t ready. Peter had started shivering again, so Neal grabbed a light blanket from the linen closet and draped it over him.

Even after Peter closed his eyes, Neal stood there, watching him with a mixture of fondness and concern. He loved the man with all his heart and wanted to help as much as Peter helped him, but Peter wasn’t really giving him much to go on – he wasn’t crying and didn’t want to talk or be comforted. He hadn’t completely shut Neal out, but it almost felt that way.

With a resigned sigh, Neal leaned over and trailed his fingers over Peter’s shoulder, whispering an _I love you_ before heading to the kitchen for his lunch. His concern for Peter’s emotional state had left his stomach more unsettled that he would have liked, so he ended up just picking at his sandwich for a few minutes before putting it away and grabbing an apple instead. He’d gotten most of the way through it when he heard a noise from the sofa and got up to investigate.

Peter had rolled over to face the back of the sofa at some point, and Neal thought at first that he was having a nightmare. It wasn’t until he got closer that he realized Peter wasn’t even asleep. The hitches in the older man’s breathing made it clear that he’d finally broken down, and Neal sat down in the corner next to his head.

“Peter?” He stroked Peter’s temple with his thumb before reaching around the blanket to wipe some of the tears from his face. “Hey, I’m here.” Neal tried to wrap an arm around Peter, but the other man resisted and let out a protesting groan. “Peter, let me help.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over Peter’s ear. “Please don’t shut me out.”

At that, Peter went still for a moment, then pushed himself up and let Neal pull him against his chest. He buried his face in Neal’s shoulder and seemed to let go, his shaky breaths warming Neal’s skin through his shirt. To Neal’s relief, Peter didn’t start sobbing and wasn’t inconsolable. He just cried softly, holding on to Neal and finally allowing the younger man to comfort him. 

“Shhh.” Neal stroked his fingers up and down Peter’s back in a soothing rhythm and nuzzled the top of his head, mussing the hair he’d styled just that morning. “I know. Shhh. I’ve got you.”

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled into his shirt a few moments later, his tears already starting to taper off. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Oh, no.” Neal’s hand moved to Peter’s face, brushing over his cheek. “You don’t have any reason to apologize.” As Peter tried to pull himself together, Neal loosened his hold just enough to let the other man find a more comfortable position. “Hey, I seem to remember you telling me a while back that it was good to get things out of my system. Same goes for you, you know.”

Peter nodded, wiping his eyes before resting his head back on Neal’s shoulder. “I just…it’s hard to see her family. They want me to know that they don’t think it’s my fault, but every time I look at them, I – I see her dying.” His voice faded to a raspy whisper, and he swallowed hard, reaching for Neal’s hand.

Neal knew the feeling all too well. Even though he knew better, there were still times when he blamed himself for Kate’s death. Though his first instinct was to say something to reassure Peter, he stayed quiet for the time being, sensing that Peter himself had more to say. Instead, he wrapped his free arm around the older man and pulled him close.

“I don’t know why it got to me so much,” Peter finally continued, his voice low and thick. “I’d seen people die before, even kids. But this – I don’t know. I was going into shock and trying not to pass out, and trying to keep pressure on Evan’s neck and Meg’s chest, and she just…her eyes. I could tell when she…” He broke off and squeezed Neal’s fingers, and Neal thought he might be crying again. 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Neal breathed, planting a kiss on Peter’s head. “I’m so sorry.”

They sat there as countless minutes passed, Peter slumped against Neal’s chest, Neal whispering words of comfort and stroking Peter’s arm, his face, the back of his neck, wherever he could reach. Though Peter’s tears stopped pretty quickly, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to let go of the moment, and Neal certainly wasn’t either. He was grateful for the chance to show Peter that he could be strong for both of them, and even a little relieved that he was doing so well with the whole situation.

Peter finally stirred and ran a hand over his face. “Neal?” It came out as a weak rasp, and he cleared his throat.

“Hmm?”

“As much as I’d like to just stay like this for hours, my leg’s starting to complain, and I think I need something to drink.”

Relieved by how much more like himself Peter sounded, Neal loosened his hold enough for Peter to push himself up. Right away, Peter wrapped a chilly hand around the back of Neal’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss, light but with hints of desperation around the edges. Neal knew it well; it was the same way he kissed Peter after waking from a nightmare. It grounded him, reassured him, reminded him of where he was – and where he wasn’t.

“Your hands are cold,” Neal told him, taking both of Peter’s hands in his own.

“I need to eat. I get cold when my blood sugar drops.” Peter squeezed Neal’s fingers before letting go and pushing himself to the edge of the sofa. He stumbled when he stood, and Neal reached to steady him, alarmed. “Just my leg. I’m alright.” After flexing his leg a few times, Peter gave Neal a reassuring nod. “I should go wash up. I’ll be right back.”

Neal studied him closely for a moment before relenting and letting him go. Peter made his way back the hallway, still a little unsteady, his fingertips trailing along the wall. Knowing that it was probably the hypoglycemia as much as Peter’s leg that was making him wobbly, Neal hurried to the kitchen to get their food ready, his subconscious keeping track of how long Peter was gone.

To his relief, Peter emerged after only a couple of minutes, face freshly washed and eyes alert. Those eyes widened when he saw the sandwiches and drinks on the table and the just-warmed bowls of soup in Neal’s hands. As Neal put down the bowls, Peter came around the table to meet him, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist. Neal’s own arms slipped around Peter and pulled him close.

“Thank you,” Peter said softly, resting his forehead in the crook of Neal’s shoulder. “I love you. I – I don’t know what I would have done without you there today.”

“I love you, too.” Neal scratched lightly at Peter’s back. “And Diana would have been –”

“No,” Peter cut him off. “I mean it, Neal. Having you there, knowing you were with me…that meant everything to me.” He let out a shaky sigh. “Diana’s one of my closest friends, and I’d never take her for granted, but she’s not you.” Peter held Neal even tighter, his breathing a little rough, and Neal was grateful for the extra time to work through the sudden ache in his own chest. He’d never had someone in his life who cared for him as much as Peter did, and it still had the power to move him.

When Peter finally pulled away, both of them had managed to gather themselves. He gave Neal a kiss that warmed the younger man all the way down to his toes. “We should probably eat before the soup gets cold again.”

Neal nodded and took his usual seat across from Peter. They ate in silence at first, and Neal was relieved to see Peter tucking into the food with only a little less than his usual enthusiasm. It wasn’t until they were nearly halfway through that Peter spoke.

“This is what I needed. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Your color’s starting to come back.” 

Peter gave him a shy smile before glancing back down at his bowl of soup. “Evan invited us to his graduation next week,” he said softly, his spoon tracing a lazy figure-eight pattern through the rice and broth.

“Do you want to go?”

“I – I think I should. It won’t be like today. It won’t be about what happened then. And maybe it’ll help…” He trailed off and continued to poke at the soup.

“Help with what?” Neal asked softly when it was apparent Peter wasn’t going to finish the thought.

Peter lifted a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth, but seemed to think better of it and let it sink back into the bowl. “I don’t know,” he confessed, weary brown eyes sliding up to meet Neal’s. “Some closure, maybe. The kids I was with that day – the ones who made it – are graduating and moving on.”

Neal reached across the table to cover Peter’s hand with his own. “And maybe it’ll help you move on, too.”

“God, I hope so,” Peter breathed. His gaze flickered away a few times before finally settling on Neal again. “I just – I want that, you know?” He flipped his hand and threaded his fingers through Neal’s. “I want to be able to watch these kids starting their futures and be proud of the fact that I played some part in that, without reminding myself that one of them isn’t getting that chance.” His voice and eye contact both faltered, and he pushed the bowl away with his free hand, his other still anchored to Neal’s. 

“Yeah,” Neal agreed softly, “I want that for you, too.”

Peter looked back up at him and allowed a small smile. “Thanks, Neal. I know it’ll take time. It took a lot of time and help from Ellen to be able to make my peace with what happened, and to get to where I’m at now. The only time it really gets to me like this anymore is when the anniversary rolls around. And who knows, I mean, maybe seeing them all graduate will help. It’s worth a try, right?”

There was so much hope in Peter’s eyes that it made Neal’s throat burn. “Of course it is.”

“Yeah.” Peter sighed, looking relieved. “Okay.” His smile grew a little wider, but after a few more minutes of just staring at his food, he admitted that he didn’t think he’d be able to eat any more. They put the rest away for later and settled in on the sofa, and this time, it was Neal sitting and Peter laying down with his head on Neal’s thigh.

As Peter dozed and then fell asleep, Neal was again struck by the poignancy of the role reversal. He suddenly understood just how Peter had felt back in the early days of their relationship, when a physically and emotionally exhausted Neal had fallen asleep on him, time and again. Now that he was on the other side, watching Peter sleep, Neal realized how comforting and satisfying it was.

After watching Peter struggle with nightmares and a spotty appetite for the past couple of days and nights, it made Neal happy – and more than a little relieved – to see him resting so peacefully, a faint upward curl at the corners of his mouth. Neal couldn’t help smiling as he brushed a few wispy hairs away from Peter’s forehead.

They stayed that way for a couple of hours, Neal himself dozing off a few times during the movie he was only half watching anyway, before Peter finally came around. Even after he woke, he closed his eyes and laid there for several more minutes, seemingly content to let Neal stroke his hair.

“What are you watching?” he finally asked, rubbing at his eyes. He started to push himself up but winced and reached down to rub his thigh. “Damn. I know what the weatherman said, but I still think he’s wrong. It’ll be raining by this evening.”

“I believe you,” Neal said softly, wrapping an arm around Peter’s back to help him sit up. “And I’m not sure what it’s called. Something about a creepy-looking truck terrorizing Dennis Weaver. It’s almost over.”

“Oh, I love that movie. I’ll be right back.” Peter leaned in to give Neal a quick kiss before levering himself to his feet, taking it easy on his leg. When he returned a few minutes later, his face was freshly washed, and though it was still subdued, his smile had grown. He’d stripped down to his undershirt and changed into a pair of lounge pants. Though Peter had gotten comfortable wearing shorts – or nothing at all – when Neal was around, he tended to wear long pants when there was a chance he’d have to use the heating pad.

Neal quickly changed into his own lounge pants and returned, grabbing the heating pad on the way. He plugged it in and helped Peter wrap it around his leg before settling in beside him on the sofa. When he looked up, Peter was watching him with such love in his eyes that it almost took Neal’s breath away.

“I know I keep saying it, but thank you,” Peter said, reaching up to run his fingers over Neal’s jaw. “Everything you’ve done…you’ve been amazing. I can’t thank you enough.” Before Neal had a chance to get choked up over the sentiment, Peter leaned in and kissed him. It was a little desperate and so perfect, and Neal gave himself over to it for a moment before gently nudging Peter back so that he wasn’t stretching his leg at all. He licked into Peter’s mouth, and Peter gave an encouraging chuckle, his fingers threading into Neal’s hair to keep him there.

As they sank deeper into a nice makeout session, Neal could tell Peter was holding back, trying to keep both of them from crossing the line into full-on arousal. Neal wasn’t sure whether it was because Peter’s moral compass wouldn’t let him go any further on the anniversary of such a tragic event, or because of the pain in his leg, or something else entirely, but he followed Peter’s lead and enjoyed the leisurely pace.

Several minutes later, the reason for Peter’s reluctance revealed itself in the form of a knock at his door. The older man pulled away from Neal slowly, giving him a few quick pecks.

“That’s either Diana or Sara,” he murmured, giving a little nod in the direction of the door. He started to push himself up, but Neal put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll get it.” He went to the door and checked the peephole before opening the door to let Diana in. “Hey, Diana.”

“Neal. How’s he doing?” She spoke softly – but apparently not softly enough.

“He’s doing fine,” Peter called from the sofa, turning to give her a wry smile. Diana regarded him for a moment, brows arched, before turning back to Neal. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring nod, and she visibly relaxed.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” She finally walked into the room and sat in the small chair across from the sofa. Neal took his spot next to Peter once again, and the older man reached for his hand.

“Take it easy, Di. I’m okay.” Peter’s smile softened around the edges. “We stayed until it got to be too much, and then Neal brought me home and helped me get through the messy parts. Got some rest, had a little something to eat, and now…things are good, considering.”

Seemingly satisfied, Diana changed the subject, bringing Peter up to date on the business instead. Neal largely stayed out of the conversation, content to sit back and observe. This was their time, he knew – Diana’s time to be there for Peter on this emotional anniversary, a role she’d largely surrendered to Neal. Even if the topic seemed innocuous, they were both getting something out of it anyway.

After nearly half an hour, Diana begged off, eager to spend a quiet evening at her girlfriend’s place. They said their goodbyes, and Neal walked her to the door. 

“Thank you,” Diana whispered, pulling a surprised Neal into a brief hug. “Whatever you’re doing for Peter, keep doing it. Really.” She gave him a small, grateful smile.

“I will,” Neal promised, trying not to blush. He knew how protective Diana was when it came to Peter and that she didn’t hand out compliments lightly. Her words meant a lot to him, as did the fact that she’d trusted him enough to leave Peter in his care at the ceremony. 

“Relax, Caffrey. You’re good for him, and we all know it. Give yourself a little credit.” After giving him a thump on the arm, she left…just in time for Sara to arrive.

Sara’s visit was shorter; she only stayed long enough to see for herself that Peter was doing well. She and several of the other Starbucks managers in the area were getting together for dinner, and she was already running late.

They asked her about Evan’s graduation the following week, and she agreed to let Neal have the day off. And after talking to Peter for a few minutes, she seemed as satisfied as Diana had been that he was doing better than expected.

“Well, I have to admit, it looks like you actually know what you’re doing here,” she said to Neal, clearly teasing. 

“Wow. I’m touched, Sara.” He smirked at her. “Did that hurt?”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes before allowing a smile. “And yes, as a matter of fact, it did.” At that, they all chuckled, even Peter. Just the sound of his lover’s laughter made Neal incredibly happy. He leaned in and brushed his lips over Peter’s jaw, and Peter responded with a quick kiss just in front of Neal’s ear.

“Well,” Sara said, “as adorable as you two are, I’ve got a dinner to attend.”

They said their goodbyes, and she headed for the door, motioning for them to stay where they were. Once she’d let herself out, Peter blew out a long breath and rested his head on Neal’s shoulder.

“Still pretty worn out?” Neal stroked Peter’s cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah,” Peter admitted. “This takes a lot out of me. I’ll probably fall asleep on you again.”

“I don’t mind.” When Peter leaned back far enough to raise an eyebrow at him, Neal couldn’t help smiling. “I’m serious. Now I know what you get out of it.”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath. He stared at Neal for a long moment before finally dropping his head back down to Neal’s shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, both of them silent, until the pain in Peter’s leg got the best of him once again. Neal helped him lay down, and Peter turned the heating pad on, wrapping it around his thigh.

The rain started around the same time as the Yankees game, but they were playing in Seattle, where the skies were surprisingly clear. Peter fell asleep before the first inning was even over, using Neal’s thigh as a pillow, and didn’t awaken until well after the game was over. Though he was learning to like it because of his boyfriend’s enthusiasm, Neal still wasn’t nearly as much of a baseball fan as Peter was, and he found himself dozing through much of the game as well. He was at least awake long enough to see the Yankees win, and Peter seemed both satisfied with the outcome, and touched that Neal actually watched some of the game.

After they’d eaten the leftovers from the deli, Neal suggested going back to the bedroom for the evening. “That way, if you need to take another nap, it’ll be more comfortable, and we won’t have to drag ourselves to bed later.”

Peter pondered this for a moment, glancing at the cordless phone on the countertop, before finally nodding. “Good idea. We should take the handset back, though. I’m expecting a call.” He didn’t elaborate, and Neal didn’t ask, just nodding instead.

As Neal grabbed a couple of water bottles and the phone, Peter headed back to the bedroom, his limp a little more pronounced than it had been all day. As an afterthought, he found Peter’s pain pills and took them along back, just in case. He’d gotten everything sorted onto their respective nightstands and was stripping down to his underwear when Peter emerged from the bathroom in his boxers. 

“It’s really coming down out there,” Peter said, peeking out through the blinds. “Makes me wish we had a roof.” He slipped under the covers and sat up against the headboard. “When I was a kid, I used to love laying in bed and listening to the rain on the roof.”

“Yeah.” Neal climbed in beside him and reached for his hand. “Sounds peaceful.”

“You’ve never heard it?”

“No, I’ve lived in apartments most of my life.” It wasn’t entirely the truth, but he didn’t want to talk about his past, and he really hadn’t ever heard the rain on the roof.

“Wow.” Peter brushed his lips over Neal’s temple. “We’ll do that someday. I’d love to be there with you when you hear it for the first time.” 

“I’d love that, too,” Neal said softly. Peter nodded and shifted to tuck himself into Neal’s side, his head resting on Neal’s chest. It felt good, though Neal knew it also meant that Peter was still feeling shaken on some level. He wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders, and they stayed that way, listening to the muted patter of the rain outside the window and the occasional distant rumble of thunder. Neal lost track of time, content to simply be Peter’s safe place.

The ringing of the phone cut through the near-silence, and Peter slowly pushed himself up, managing to answer it just before the third ring. “Hello?” He broke into a relieved grin. “Hey, Dad.”

It shouldn’t have surprised Neal that Peter’s father was calling him, but it did. Peter rarely talked about his family, although he’d mentioned to Neal that he and his dad were pretty close and that they spoke on the phone a couple of times a month. This was the first time, however, that Neal was with him for one of those calls.

“Yeah,” Peter said softly into the phone. “I – I’m okay. Neal’s here with me. He’s been my rock.” Peter’s smile turned fond, and Neal returned it, running his fingers over Peter’s leg. “I am, and I’m still seeing Dr. Parker when I need to.”

Though Neal could only hear one side of the conversation, he had a general idea of what was going on as they shifted to talking about baseball, and how things were going in Peter’s dad’s life, and the latest happenings in the small town where he’d grown up. Peter involved Neal in the conversation a few times, but Neal was content to just sit back for the rest, listening and watching as the remnants of the day’s tension melted away from his lover.

“Oh, I’ll definitely be back for Summer Fest this year,” Peter said, “and I’d like to bring Neal along.” Neal’s eyebrows shot up at that. They’d never discussed a trip to Peter’s hometown, but Neal was unexpectedly thrilled by the prospect. Any chance to get away somewhere with Peter sounded wonderful, but if Peter was taking him home to meet his dad, then it meant things were truly serious between them. He grinned at Peter, and the older man reached up with his free hand, letting his fingers drift over Neal’s cheekbone, then down around his lips.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. Neal, have you been upstate?”

“No, believe it or not, I haven’t.”

“Did you hear that?” Peter said into the phone before speaking to Neal again. “Dad says he’s looking forward to meeting you. No, Dad, he’s not a vegetarian.” Peter chuckled at something else his dad said, but over the next five minutes, he seemed to sober a little too quickly. Neal studied him, trying to figure out what was going on and wishing Peter had put the call on speaker.

“I know, Dad.” Peter’s voice had grown soft, a hint of thickness working its way into his baritone. “Sure, of course…I will, I promise. And we’ll see you in August. Yeah.” He started blinking rapidly, looking down at the sheet over his legs. Neal reached for Peter’s hand, and Peter’s chin started to tremble. “Okay. And Dad…” There was no mistaking the tears in Peter’s voice as he struggled to keep from breaking down. “Thanks for calling. It was good to hear from you.” He let out a shaky breath, his hand tightening around Neal’s. “Love you, too. Bye.”

Peter hung up the phone, almost dropping the handset as his emotions got the best of him. He tucked his face into Neal’s neck and let out a choked half-sob before managing to swallow the ones that should have followed. Neal held him and murmured a few comforting words, but Peter was already back in control. He let out a frustrated sigh and moved his head to rest on Neal’s shoulder once again.

“I’m alright,” he said, swiping at the tears on his face. “Dammit. I’m sorry, Neal.”

“Hey, no. Peter, you don’t need to apologize for this.”

“I know.” Peter pulled away, shaking his head. “I just – I don’t like being on a hair trigger like this.” He sat up, and Neal wrapped an arm around his back.

“I think you’re entitled,” Neal told him, his fingers drifting in patterns on Peter’s bicep.

Peter shrugged in concession. “Maybe. It’s just that Dad and I have been through hell and back over the years. We’ve gotten each other through a lot together, even before I got shot. And after a day like today, hearing his voice…” His own voice had grown rough, and he trailed off, swallowing hard. “It means a lot. _He_ means a lot.” He turned to Neal with a shaky, but genuine smile. “And so do you.” Leaning in, he gave Neal a short, sweet kiss that might have made Neal melt a little. They sat in silence for a moment, content to simply be together.

“So, we’re going upstate?” Neal finally asked, more to redirect Peter to a better train of thought than anything else. “What’s Summer Fest?”

“Oh, it’s Claysburg’s version of a town fair. Rides, bands, games, lots of great food. Kind of an unofficial homecoming, too, I guess. A lot of the people who grew up and moved away come back to catch up. They bring their families, and there’s an alumni softball game – you know, things like that.”

Neal didn’t know, but he nodded anyway. He’d never been back home since he left, and he didn’t think he’d ever go back. There was nothing tying him to St. Louis. His father was gone, his mother might as well be, Kate was dead. Even their neighbor, Kathryn, who’d taken care of Neal and Kate and even pretended to be ‘Aunt Kath’ when they’d needed someone to show up for school events, had passed away a few years after Neal left.

“Do –” His voice was unexpectedly raspy, and he cleared his throat. “Do you go back every year?”

“Used to.” Peter got a faraway look in his eyes. “I haven’t been back since I was shot.”

“Oh.” Neal turned this over in his mind for a moment before cocking his head at Peter. “You mean just for the Summer Fest, right?”

Peter didn’t come back from wherever he was in his head. “No. I mean I haven’t been back to Claysburg since…then. Since the Christmas before, I guess.” His gaze drifted slowly back to meet Neal’s, and Neal tried to school the shock from his face. “Dad came here after I was injured, spent some time helping out. I pretended to be doing better than I was, though, so he’d go back home. I – I knew he missed it there. He hates the city.” Peter’s voice dropped, and he looked down at his legs – no, at his _left_ leg. “And I didn’t want him to see me like that. He’s visited a few times since, but he doesn’t stay long.” He inhaled deeply through his nose and finally seemed to return to the present, the smile returning to his face as he looked back up. “He’s really excited to meet you, you know.”

Neal wasn’t sure what to say to that. It made him feel warm inside to know that Peter was talking with his dad about their relationship, and he was looking forward to the trip to Peter’s hometown. At the same time, it was hard for him to wrap his mind around the idea that Peter’s father was not only comfortable with his son being gay, but that he was looking forward to meeting the man who was his lover. Neal’s experience with his own father had been so vastly different that he’d blocked it from his memory.

Realizing that Peter was still waiting for a response, Neal forced himself to return a small smile. “He’s okay with it, then?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied, voice soft and eyes shining. “Dad’s the best. He supported me from the day I came out. I don’t know how or why.”

“Because he loves you.” Neal rested his head against Peter’s, taking a moment to consider his next words before he spoke. He obviously knew Peter was close to his father, but he’d never heard the other man mention his mother. It was something about which Neal had been curious for a while, and he finally decided to broach the subject. “Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“You never talk about your mother? Is she – did she pass away or something? Or is it something I shouldn’t even bring up?”

Peter got very still for a moment, his eyes drifting shut, and Neal instantly regretted asking. When Peter replied, there was a decidedly frigid tone to his voice, one that almost made Neal shiver. “She’s dead to me, and that’s all you really need to know.”

“Okay, so…” Neal stared at the muscle twitching high up in Peter’s clenched jaw and scrambled to think of something to redirect the other man’s mind. “So why did your dad want to know if I was a vegetarian?”

Peter didn’t reply at first, didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard the question. Neal just waited, barely breathing, a cold tendril of worry starting to work its way into his stomach. He felt his lover inhale deeply, a calming breath with a slight hitch. His eyes came up to search Neal’s face, and to Neal’s great relief, there was no animosity or anger there.

“He, uh, wants to make us something on the grill. Dad loves to grill.” Peter looked like he was debating whether or not to say something else, but he was interrupted by a yawn that seemed to catch him off-guard. He rubbed absently at his forehead, and Neal realized that Peter was probably checking out on the conversation as his emotionally exhausted mind tried to redirect his thoughts to something more soothing. It was another technique Peter had learned from Dr. Parker, Neal knew, because she’d been trying to help him learn to do the same.

Knowing he needed to do something, Neal slipped down under the sheet, coaxing Peter to join him. Peter came willingly and pressed himself against Neal’s side, curling an arm across Neal’s body and settling his head on Neal’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Peter murmured after a short time. “I just – I can’t talk about that. Not tonight.”

Neal kissed the top of Peter’s head. “You don’t have to.”

Peter sighed, his index finger tracing a lazy circle around Neal’s nipple. Thanks to the somber day, though, it was more of a comfort than a turn-on. “She – she’s still alive, but she doesn’t exist to me anymore, and she never will. I know that sounds cruel, but she did some things that were completely unforgivable, and then she just kept…” He trailed off, and Neal could feel the older man’s jaw clenching against his chest.

“Peter, don’t. Please. Look, this has already been a rough day, and I just – I don’t want you to go to sleep thinking about things like that.”

Peter pushed himself up just far enough to brush his lips against Neal’s. His eyes were clear, and there was a vague hint of a smile on his face. “And that’s one of the many, many reasons I love you.”

“I love you, too, Peter.” Neal kissed him back, scratching lightly at the short hairs at the nape of Peter’s neck. It was something he knew Peter loved, something that was a comfort, and it definitely seemed to help as Peter settled back into his side. “Now, tell me about this trip. What’s it like there? What’s your dad like?”

Peter chuckled softly, his warm breath gusting over Neal’s skin, a comfort in its own right. And as Neal listened to Peter describing his childhood home, he could feel a peace settling over both of them, the kind of peace he didn’t think would have been possible after how unsettled Peter had been earlier in the day. It felt good, hearing the soft, steady cadence of Peter’s voice and the faint notes of happiness that managed to thread their way through his words. Neal didn’t speak, not wanting to break the spell, but he hummed an acknowledgement every so often.

It wasn’t long before Peter’s speech slowed, and the pauses between anecdotes grew, until he finally faded into slumber once again. Neal had a feeling this one would last longer and that Peter likely wouldn’t wake until morning.

Neal didn’t follow right away, instead laying awake in the near darkness, his mind still winding down. They’d made it through the days leading up to the ceremony, and through the day of the ceremony itself, and it hadn’t been as bad as Neal had expected. He’d done his best to help Peter get through the rough patches, and he allowed himself to feel a little proud of the fact that he’d been strong for Peter – and for himself. 

There’d been a time when it wouldn’t have even been an issue. Neal had been different then, confident and engaging, and he would have been strong for the man he loved without hesitation. Even Matthew Keller’s verbal abuse and cheating hadn’t broken him, though it had left some deep fissures in his self-assurance.

But what had come after, the torment at the hands of another man, the devastation that had come with Kate’s death, and the destruction that followed – all of it had left him a hollowed-out shell of what he once was, barely capable of taking care of himself, let alone someone else. There had been times, so many times, when he was certain he’d never come close to resembling that man he’d been.

Neal’s relationship with Peter Burke, though, was changing all of that. Some of the pieces of himself that he thought had died were starting to come back, making him feel a little closer to whole again. And each piece that fell back into place brought with it the hope that maybe sometime in the near future, he’d be able to be more of an equal partner in their relationship.

He knew Peter already saw him that way, and his sessions with Dr. Parker were helping Neal get into that mindset as well, but he’d thought he still had a ways to go. The past few days, and especially the day that was just ending, told a different story – one in which Neal, without hesitation, could be Peter’s anchor and his solace.

Peter stirred in the darkness, snuffling against Neal’s shoulder before somehow realizing that Neal was still awake. He made a questioning noise, and Neal shook his head, brushing his lips over Peter’s forehead.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered.

After a moment’s hesitation, Peter’s muzzy voice answered with, “You first.” There was just enough of an admonishing note in those two words that Neal realized Peter knew he hadn’t slept yet.

“Okay.” He nuzzled the top of Peter’s head and finally pushed the thoughts aside in favor of listening to Peter’s slow, rhythmic breathing. That easy cadence helped convince him that, at least for the time being, things were right in their world, and he sank into a peaceful sleep.

***

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank everyone for their patience and their wonderful comments/kudos! I'd planned to publish this one much sooner, but the ending went beyond where I was originally planning to stop the story. Plus, in the middle of writing it, I quit my job and found a new job - one which requires a state certification and lots of training! My writing time over the past month has been limited, and my training won't be finished until July, but I'll still be writing whenever I get a chance! :)


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